A Gentleman's Game
by smacky30
Summary: Rossi doesn't want a stripper at his bachelor party.  But some things are beyond his control.  Written for the cmrossiprentiss Wedding Fest at LJ.


Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: Written for a LJ challenge. Many thanks for Mingsmommy and Losingntrnslatn for the beta work. They are far nicer to me than I deserve.

"Damn!" Morgan watched his ball soar off toward the trees lining the twelfth fairway. "How do people make money doing this?"

"People have been playing this game in some form since the eleventh century," Reid said. "In the United States there are approximately 4.6 billion people who play twice a month or more. It's a very popular…"

"Reid!" Dave glared at Hotch and Jimmy when they started laughing. "It's my party. Stop doing that."

"Doing what?" The younger man looked utterly confused as the other men choked back laughter.

Morgan shook his head and patted Reid on the shoulder. "Isn't it your turn, man?"

"Oh…uh…yeah." Reid gave tentative grin and, grabbing a club from his bag, approached the tee box.

The guys had insisted on throwing Dave a bachelor party, no matter how many times he said he didn't want one. When he had finally agreed, he insisted they play golf at his club. Not only could he spend a few hours doing something he enjoyed, with people he actually liked, but he could control the presence (or absence) of a stripper. Now, watching Reid try to twist his gangly body into something approximating the proper stance for golf, Dave realized he was going to spend a lot of his day laughing, too.

Father Jimmy sidled up next to Dave and nudged his arm. "So," he whispered. "Are you sure about this?"

Dave chuffed out a laugh and shook his head. He had been asked the same question, in one form or another, everyday since he and Emily announced their engagement. Was he sure? As sure as a guy could be after three failed marriages. Oh, he loved Emily more than anybody or anything…even himself. That was the biggest difference between this time and the others. Emily was the difference.

The sound of Reid making contact with the ball brought him back to the present.

"I didn't think you were wearing your collar out here." His voice was just a soft as the priest's. Then, with a soft grin, he laid his hand on his old friend's shoulder. "I'm positive."

"Hey," Will drawled. "Here comes the beer cart."

"Thank God." Kevin slapped a hand over his mouth and mumbled, "Sorry Father." When Will chuckled Kevin shrugged and said, "Seriously, this game has to be easier if you're a little drunk."

Jimmy threw his head back and laughed while Morgan signaled for the beer cart to head their direction.

Dave took another moment to glance around. It was a beautiful day, clear with just a hint of fall in the air. The humidity had finally broken a couple of days before and the slight breeze felt great against his skin. He looked around at the men surrounding him and felt his heart swell a little in his chest. No man could possibly have better friends. Even Anderson was relaxed and smiling in the late morning sun.

"Who's that on the beer cart?" Hotch looked up, shading his eyes with his hand. "I thought only one person rode on there."

"Huh?" Dave said, squinting in the direction of the red and black cart heading toward them. It was obvious that there were two people on the cart along with the cooler of beer, water and soft drinks. One of them looked like Jennifer, the same girl who had sold them drinks earlier in the morning. The other was blonde. Her platinum hair was glinting in the sun. Other than that, he couldn't really see her features.

"I don't know." Dave shrugged and turned to watch Anderson's drive soar off down the middle of the fairway. "Don't recognize her."

"Well, whoever she is, she's hot." Morgan grinned his lady-killer grin and arranged himself in a pose designed to draw attention to his best attributes.

Golf forgotten for a moment, all the men turned to watch the cart cross the final few feet toward them.

Jennifer climbed down and gave them a wide, friendly smile. "Hi, Mr. Rossi. Gentlemen. You guys thirsty?"

Dave glanced at the woman still seated in the cart. Her head was turned, but he'd been right about her hair. A platinum chin length bob kept her features hidden. His stomach clenched. He'd told Hotch and Morgan no strippers. He'd picked his own club to play golf at because he knew they'd never allow it. But the sight of a stranger in the beer cart dressed like this one was making him nervous.

He looked around at the group of men and none of them seemed to be paying any attention to the woman, but Dave couldn't resist another look. There was something familiar about her, something that captured his attention and held it. Maybe it was the miles of slender leg that were showing below the hem of her very short shorts. Maybe it was the skin tight t-shirt and the way it hugged the pert curve of her breast, or the suspenders she wore that hinted at the fun lurking beneath her beautiful surface.

Shaking his head, he turned back to Jennifer. "Can I just get a bottle of water?"

"Sure. It's up front." She pointed toward the cooler situated on the front seat of the cart. "Ask my friend to get it for you."

Dave turned and his mouth dropped open. He could hear Hotch and Jimmy laughing behind him. But he couldn't take his eyes off Emily. His Emily, in a platinum wig and fuck me pumps, her brown eyes sparkling beneath the brim of her black leather biker's cap, her lips painted with glossy blood red lipstick. He watched in stunned silence as she slithered out of the cart and sauntered toward him, hips rolling with every step.

Emily stopped just before her breasts brushed his shirt and she held up a bottle of water. "Is this what you wanted?"

Dave nodded. "Water would be good too." He watched her choke back a bark of laughter and came to his senses. "What are you doing here? Like that?"

Her lips tilted up in a quick smile. "I heard Hotch and Morgan complaining that you wouldn't let them get you a stripper." She shrugged. "So, I volunteered to at least distract you from your game a little."

Lifting his hands, Dave grasped her hips and pulled her to him. His lips brushed her ear and he whispered, "Right now I've got wood you shouldn't use to hit a golf ball."

Giggling, she pulled back. A blush colored her cheeks and her voice was low and throaty. "Want to go home with me, Agent Rossi?"

"Will you keep the wig on?" Winking, he bent his head to kiss her.


End file.
